


Kingsglaive

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, M/M, Oneshot, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Noctis leads three lives. There's the college student, the prince and the masked crime fighter. When he runs into a 'co-worker' during his princely pursuits things get sticky. Maybe a little romantic even?
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 135





	Kingsglaive

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a few of these 'Canon but with superheroes' rolling around Ao3 (all praise Yeaka the mighty) and found a great writing prompt around super heroes on tumblr I just had to write so here we are!

Noctis leads three lives. Not two, two would be manageable, but three.

There's Noctis. The anxious young university student who would rather spend all day playing video games and eating pasta. 

There's the Prince of Lucius, Noctis Lucius Caelum, 114th heir to the throne who spends his days training and meeting and consulting in preparation for his time on the throne.

And then there's Kingsglaive. The masked vigilante who defends both Insomnia and Lucius from daemons, foreign powers, regular criminals and the occasional super villain with his rag tag group of masked super friends. 

Honestly, the Prince is probably Noctis' least favorite of his three lives but its the capacity in which he's acting today. King Regis is aware of Noctis nightly duties as a masked magical crime fighter but chooses to support him on several conditions. 

Historically the council restricts what exactly Noctis can use his magic for as Prince or King but as a vigilante? Well, Noctis and his father think he can do a lot of good. So through the raw, unmitigated, super power of Ignis' unending organizational skills Noctis runs three lives. On the condition that Noctis meets his princely duties before punching out any dastardly villains. 

Honestly without Ignis' exceptional trickery and cleverness Noctis would've been caught years ago. Without his father's quietly redirected funds and adapted resources he likewise would've been killed by a stray bullet very quickly.

Today, to keep them both happy and demonstrate his thanks for all that they do, he's enduring a press interview with one of the city's biggest newspapers. Noctis is not enthused but Ignis has given him talking points etc to keep things running smoothly and has also approved what the interviewer can and cannot question him about. 

Which would all be great but then, while they're setting up the lights and such, the photographer belly giggles.

It sounds like a nothing, a minor distraction, but that snorting, choking, downright unattractive laugh...

Noctis knows that laugh.

Noctis' eyes whip pointedly around towards the camera equipment. The photographer is about the right height, give or take an inch or two of boots, and his hair is the perfect shade of gold blonde. But the laugh is everything. Noctis could put everything else down to his imagination but he knows that stupid fucking laugh.

Noctis only has a few super powered friends in the city and while they all support each other they're not an organized group. They team up on occasion, sure, but they all came to their decisions independently and have no overriding control or authority over each other. 

Out of all those super power nuisances Noctis has known Gunslinger the longest.

And that, that stupid laugh, is Gunslinger's laugh.

Noctis first heard it on a warehouse rooftop three years ago. They were sharing a pizza after crushing an elaborate bank heist. Noctis is pretty sure that's the moment he fell in love with Gunslinger.

Gunslinger, Noctis has always reasoned, could be anyone. He could have his own criminal record. But if he's reputable enough to pass a background check for the _Daily Insomniac_ then surely the council would approve of Noctis socializing with him? 

Noctis heart surges with hope, with excitement and he's barely cognizant of the interview washing past around him.

Ignis notes the shift in him instantly but doesn't question it until they're out of the sitting room. 

"What's wrong?" He whispers, grasping Noctis' elbow.

"I need you to get me everything you can on the photographer, the blonde." Noctis explains. 

"Why?" Ignis digs.

"Ignis, _please_." Noctis strains. 

“Do you suppose he’s up to something untoward?” Ignis murmurs.

“I—” Noctis hesitates. Ignis knows a lot but he doesn’t want to expose Gunslinger outright and Ignis might be less amicable to his plans if he fully understands. “He’s cute. I want to take him out to dinner.”

“Noctis,” Ignis snorts, “that’s not like you.”

“He was really cute,” Noctis stresses the lie. To be honest he didn’t get a great look, he was too busy checking for specific details to corroborate his hypothesis, but he knows Gunslinger has a killer form and he’s certain that boy is Gunslinger.

“I’ll look into it,” Ignis chuckles weakly.

* * *

Ignis does look into it. The photographer is named Prompto Argentum. According to his unexceptional history he was adopted by two Lucians who do a lot of refugee work abroad. He went to a good school, he had a few minor extra curriculars mainly in the arts, and his record has been spotlessly clean every since he left school and started working his way up through the editorial ranks at the _Daily Insomniac_.

Noctis has a slightly different history compiled on Gunslinger from their costumed conversations but nothing in Prompto’s background directly contradicts the details Noctis has. If Gunslinger was stolen from an experimental Niff laboratory it makes sense Prompto’s parents would be international aid workers. The details could all fit together cleanly enough.

Ignis extends Noctis’ invitation once the background check is cleared. Noctis is nervous but he’s already resolved if Prompto declines he’s driving to his apartment and barging his way in. He hasn’t decided if he’ll wear his mask or not. Luckily for him Prompto Argentum accepts the Prince’s dinner request.

Noctis knows Ignis won’t let a stranger come to his private apartments but there are too many eyes and ears at the Citadel. Ignis agrees to Noctis taking a security detail to an expensive restaurant downtown. Noctis consents on the condition security hangs back and he and his date have a private booth.

Noctis arrives with his security a little early and Noctis must interrogate the chef for ten straight minutes. He keeps saying ‘_Well… we could do that if it pleases his Highness but we have a wonderful seasonal menu of—_’ and Noctis keeps insisting he wants what he wants.

By the time Noctis has that sorted Prompto is weaving between tables with a waiter.

“Highness,” Prompto greets with a kind of sheepishness that’s only skin deep. Prompto’s reputably very outgoing and Noctis doubts Gunslinger would get nervous meeting an Astral never mind a lowly prince.

Noctis shakes his hand warmly. “Thank you for agreeing to come,” he greets. “Come sit?”

“Of course, thank you,” Prompto agrees sliding into the opposite side of the booth. “No menus?”

“I already ordered, special request,” Noctis dismisses. “It’ll be another few minutes. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um…” Prompto considers for a moment. “Can I be difficult and say cider?”

“You can be as difficult as you want,” Noctis smiles.

“I’ve got admit,” Prompto laughs when the waiter floats away again, “I was surprised. I didn’t think I’d made that much of an impression during your interview.”

“It’s complicated,” Noctis shrugs, “you just… you got my attention.”

“Can you tell me how?” Prompto grins. “I think there are a few million girls who’d like me to bottle that.”

“No, I think I’ll leave you guessing for now.”

“You’re cruel,” Prompto laughs, “duly noted."

“Ignis, my Hand, had to do a background check on you before we met. Seems awful, I know, but it was a good excuse to check out more of your photos,” Noctis explains. “You do great work. Do you like photography?”

“It’s my passion,” Prompto beams. “I’m so glad you liked my stuff. Did anything in particular catch your eye…?”

“Your on the scene photography,” Noctis answers immediately. “You got so close to some of those conflicts. You must be a crazy adrenaline junkie.”

“I like good photos,” Prompto shrugs, grinning. “What about you? What do you like? Is being Prince your passion?”

“Not exactly,” Noctis admits. “I organize a lot of private projects to keep myself sated. Honestly, I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie myself.”

“Now that’s a story,” Prompto leans forward, “what does the Prince do for a thrill?”

“Off the record answers only,” Noctis grins.

Prompto laughs into his knuckles but the sound morphs slightly when two waiters return; one with drinks, one with a fat sizzling pizza.

Prompto blinks, devolving into a giggle.

“I don’t expect this was originally on the menu…?” He turns to Noctis.

“Not exactly.” Noctis shrugs. “Pepperoni and chorizo for my half. Red onion, olives, capsicum, pepperoni and pineapple for you. Though I personally object to the pineapple.”

Prompto’s expression falters. That’s their pizza order. The pizza order from a million late night rooftop stake outs of this or that drug lord. He turns from playful to shocked to sharp as a razor in the span of about ten seconds. Noctis smirks. There’s Gunslinger.

Noctis isn’t sure why he ever doubted it. When Prompto forces a tight smile and picks up a piece of pizza to bite almost violently into it Noctis can see all the years of combat experience leeching into every motion.

“I don’t order pizza with a lot of people,” Prompto mulls over his mouthful. “So that considerably narrows the list of where we’ve met before. So… what gave me away, huh?”

“Your stupid laugh,” Noctis admits brazenly, picking up a slice of pizza.

“So I like you, good sign,” Prompto chews.

“Want a hint?” Noctis offers.

“No, I’ll get it,” Prompto insists, licking his fingers and picking up his glass of cider. “Say ‘_drop the gun_’ for me?” He entreats, preemptively closing his eyes so he can block out Noctis face and focus on his voice.

Noctis complies, pizza in hand, dipping his voice into a growl.

Prompto spits up cider across the table.

The waiters and security fly into action. Immediately the waiters are helping Prompto mop up and security tap Noctis’ shoulder to make sure everything is alright.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Noctis assures.

“Yeah,” Prompto coughs, moping the table with a napkin. “This guy’s just _fucking hilarious._”

Noctis smirks.

They wait until the clean-up crew are gone.

“I figured you’d be…” Prompto gestures frantically, trying to find the right word but surrendering quickly diverts in a hissing whisper; “I didn’t think you’d be _the fucking prince._”

“I guessed you’d be in front of the camera, not behind it, but I guess that’s more your pace; all up in the action, causing the trouble.” Noctis grins wide.

“Ugh, you totally snuck up on me, you bastard.” Prompto laughs. This time its genuine and he emphasizes it by kicking Noctis under the table pointedly. “Is this the part where you tell me I should retire?”

“No,” Noctis assures. “You know my secret too. No, this is the part where I ask you to have dinner with me a lot more frequently.”

“You were the one who said we couldn’t work.” Prompto reminds.

Noctis remembers, it was a year ago, they kissed very hard on a fire escape.

“I said my world was complicated,” he corrects, “not that I didn’t want you desperately.”

“And things are different now?"

“No, not really,” Noctis shrugs, “but I can’t stand not kissing you any longer so I’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Hmm….” Prompto sits on that for a second, purposefully dragging it out. “I should keep you locked in hopeful anticipation for another year you jerk,” Prompto huffs, kicking his ankle again.

Noctis laughs reaching across the table to gather up his hand and squeeze it.

Prompto snorts but squeezes back.

“Handsome, mean, talented, rich….” Prompto shakes his head. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

“Say we’ll do this again,” Noctis pleads gently.

“If you’d told me you were a homeless badger in a trench coat I’d still ask you to move in tomorrow.” Prompto deadpans. “Yes, of course, you asshole we can do this again.”

Noctis goes to open his mouth when a siren sails past the restaurant frontage. Police by the looks, three cars. He and Prompto share a glance.

“If we leave now—” Prompto whispers.

“I’ll be maybe forty minutes.” Noctis nods.

“Just in time to make a dramatic entrance, eh Kingsglaive?” Prompto smirks.


End file.
